


Samurai Jack and the Monumentally Flawed Vendettan Justice System

by ChrissyJones



Category: Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a sucker for this nonsense you know, Jack gets hurt, Punishment, Violence, Whipping, a girl takes care of him, because I'm still working on that part, but I don't have any tags for that yet, confusing otherworldly justice systems, h/c, then they get sexy, tw violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissyJones/pseuds/ChrissyJones
Summary: Jack stumbles onto the territory of a strong peoples who have had a long-standing alliance with Aku. The worst part is, Jack is a criminal to Aku's governing eyes. The Vendettans take it upon themselves to seek justice on behalf of the demon, and they resurrect a long-dead tradition of a good, old-fashioned public flagellation. Fortunately for Jack, a Vendetta government employee sees things from his perspective and works toward helping him escape a barbaric fate. (IE. Jack gets whipped, pretty girl takes care of him and bails him out).





	Samurai Jack and the Monumentally Flawed Vendettan Justice System

It happened sometime between sunset and midnight. This, Jack knew, because he had dozed off after the sun was setting curled under the safety of a droopy old willow tree. Well, he had thought it was safe, at least to some extent. There had been twigs, dead branches, and dried old fronds in every direction. Certainly enough things around him to alert him to an enemy presence. Jack was a light sleeper, considerably so, and there had been nights when he found himself unable to keep his eyes closed for the sounds of the forest or the fields, electrifying his senses, making his adrenaline rush. Not that Jack slept much anyway these days. It was almost like a chore, giving his body as little as he could afford to rest and halt his journey and travels.

The still night air, and warm, heavy fog after a satisfying meal of fish and berries, along with several consecutive nights of nearly no sleep, must have knocked him out cold. The sound of footsteps approaching should have awakened him, it normally would, but Jack had been so deeply unconscious that he didn’t wake until he felt a touch on his shoulder. It was a large hand, a man’s, strong and certain, and it took nearly a full second for Jack to stir from his slumber. That one second had cost him. It was all the time the man needed to jab something into his neck. A sharp pain shot from the site and plummeted all the way to his toes, before he started to feel numb and fuzzy, and his eyes slowly betrayed him, closing of their own accord.

When Jack again woke, he was in a strange, cold, rumbling place. The back of a vehicle, perhaps. Still foggy, he used every ounce of strength to force his eyes back open. They wouldn’t focus, vision bleary from whatever he’d been injected with. He could only make out silhouettes in the dark space. It looked like two figures, seated somewhere slightly above him. They were talking, softly, incoherently. Or maybe they were speaking like normal, but the brain fog wouldn’t lift far enough for him to comprehend their words. He was on the floor, he realized. His left shoulder ached where he lay on it. He shifted to alleviate some of the pressure, but his limbs still felt tired and weak. His whole body screamed at him to lay back down,  _ close your eyes, just go back to sleep _ . It was at war with his mind, which signaled just the word  _ danger _ over and over. He couldn’t bring himself to think much beyond that. He tried to force the sleep from his physical form, to fight through it, but to little avail. He flexed his arms, searching for feeling, anything to indicate how he was laying and why it hurt so badly on one side. He found, soon enough, that his arms were bound tightly behind him, locked into something cold and hard with his hands nearly touching his elbows. He tried to wriggle his fingers, but that much motion wasn’t back in him yet.

The vehicle hit a  _ bump _ and jostled him, and he huffed a soft groan. The bump hurt. He must be banged up.

His sound must have drawn attention from one of his captors, because their chatter ceased and one of them stood and approached him, a dark shadow encroaching on his space. It chuckled, deeply, ominously.

“Well well, looky who’s awakin’ up.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak; it felt dry and prickly, like he’d swallowed brambles. He couldn’t get much more than a soft sound to come out, but he kept trying until he was able to form the words “ _ Who are you? _ ”

That dark chuckle sounded again, and Jack willed away the dread settling in his stomach.

“Me? I’m nobody. I’m taking you to see somebody. Somebody who’s gonna have a pretty great night once they realize we were the ones to finally capture ole  _ Samurai Jack _ .”

_ Why keep me alive? _ He wondered. Surely this was not the work of any of Aku’s footsoldiers; they would have slit his throat while he slept, or impaled him, or any other measure of instant death that would allow no room for escape. “What...purpose..” He was trying to find the words, to form them, to figure out what was going on. 

The man had no interest in letting him continue, however, cuing with a “Hush now, go on back to sleep.” 

That sharp sting was back at his neck, and Jack’s world once again went black.

 

Jack woke a third time on solid ground. There was a deep ache in his bones and a stiffness setting into his muscles. There was warmth on his skin from somewhere, lighting part of his face, neck, and chest in a stripe. He blinked, blearily. Just like before, his eyes seemed to take their sweet time coming to, and he felt like his body had been filled with stones.  _ Sunlight _ . It was shining onto him from somewhere. Was it just now morning? His body felt like he had been buried for a year. Jack swallowed, his throat scratchy and raw. He leaned his head back; it bumped gently against something cool and solid. Stone?

He blinked some more. He couldn’t feel, could barely see, and was really only vaguely aware of existing. The warm light felt soothing and sweet against his skin, dulling the cold pain in his head.

There was a distant voice, not like the ones he’d heard before. This one was...soft. Gentle. It was...coming from in front of him? There was movement, and he could feel something touching him. Some... _ one. _ A small hand. It was lifting his head forward. Distantly, he felt something touch his lips.

“... _ will help. Go on, just a sip now.” _

It was a cup, cold and smooth. He opened his mouth, and water spilled cool and sweet into his mouth. He sputtered at first, struggling to swallow, and the liquid dribbled down his chin in droplets. The figure before him was patient and moved slowly, allowing him to adjust. Swallowing became easier, and he was able to drink a gulp or two before he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and he struggled to turn his head away from the cup.

“Okay, alright.” The voice was getting closer in his mind, the image before him starting to clear. He could feel in bits and pieces, first off that his arms were raised just above his head, elbows bent by his ears. He was sitting on a cold floor, up against a wall of polished stone.

“There now, take it slow.” It was a woman. She had dark hair, and a delicate, pretty face. She held the cup in one hand, the other still supporting his head. “You’ve been out for a minute now, you’ll need some time. But you need to get hydrated.”

Jack swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, managing to look around. They were in what appeared to be a cell of some sort, adorned only with a few pairs of shackles on the walls (he must be in one currently) and a narrow metal bench.

The woman didn’t appear to be a prisoner like him. She was well-dressed in a crisp, white, pressed button down shirt and black pants with no dust or debris. 

“Where am I?” He finally managed. His voice sounded raspy and tired.

“You’re in the tower of Vendetta,” she replied. “You’re awaiting recompense.”

“Recompense?” Jack was getting more feeling now, the aches and pains becoming sharper and clearer. There were bruises all down his shoulders and arms, and there was some discoloration on his abdomen. He began to realize that he was cold because he had been stripped of his gi and geeta and left in only his fundoshi wrappings.

“Yes. Normally our government would never kowtow to another, much less a tyrant or overlord. However, we have a long-standing arrangement with the Great Lord Aku and you have caused great disruption to our land. Aku is displeased, and so my rulers are displeased. I hope you understand, fair Samurai.”

“I fear I do not. I am unfamiliar with the governments and ways of this time.” 

The woman’s countenance faltered. It was subtle, but Jack didn’t miss it. She looked a touch uneasy - or perhaps he was just noticing it because he felt his senses returning to him. 

“All shall be explained,” she assured. “In the meantime, I shall care for you. My name is Carnelia. Should you need anything, I will be right here with you.” She lent him a soft smile. “Now, let’s try to get more water in you. You’ve been unconscious for nearly 36 hours.”

Jack raised his eyebrows in muted surprise. That would definitely explain the physical discomforts, and the pain upon drinking. He would be dehydrated by now. Carnelia raised the cup again and tilted it just enough for Jack to get some more water from it, slowly. He wanted to gulp it down, to feel the quick relief of  _ cold _ and  _ wet _ on his parched tongue, even though he knew it would only cause more cramps. She remained patient with him, slowly assisting him until the cup was empty. As she moved her hand away from the back of his head, she threaded her fingers through his loose hair. It was a motion he would normally appreciate, but he still felt a niggling unease and it set him in goosebumps.

“I’m going to get you some food, Samurai.” She said. “Please, try to relax for a few moments. I’ll return shortly.”

She let herself out of the cell with a small gesture to a security guard - a guard who was also female, but much larger than Carnelia, a mountain of muscle and a hard expression. She was dressed in brown, with huge black boots and armed with a baton and some small device with some sort of electrodes on it.

When Carnelia returned, she was carrying an oversized bowl with some fruits and a large piece of bread sticking out of the top. She sat before Jack, cross-legged, and tilted the bowl so he could see inside.

“What do you like?” She asked.

Jack eyed the bowl warily, unable to exactly think about eating. He felt a little queasy, actually, and instead asked, “What sort of... _ recompense _ ...awaits me?”

Carnelia looked disappointed, but she didn’t skirt the question, instead sighing softly and setting the bowl on the floor. “The exact punishment shall be determined by the Grand Judge this afternoon. I don’t know precisely what awaits you, my dear. Tradition calls for a number of lashes deemed equitable to your crimes.”

He felt his heart jump.  _ Lashes _ ? Like a flogging? He hoped his face didn’t betray the brief terror he experienced and instead moved on to another question. “What crime have I committed?”

“Vendetta has agreed to keep this land peaceful to appease Aku. We will not stray from our territory to hunt his enemies, but we agreed centuries ago that if Aku issued protection over our land, we should hunt down and punish his enemies in accordance with our laws.”

He was uncertain if she was being indirect on purpose, or if she didn’t have a precise answer for him. “I still do not understand.”

“In short, Samurai, you have trespassed. Vendettans are not strictly territorial, but being an enemy of Aku we could not allow you to pass through our lands unnoticed.”

“Can I not simply explain that I was unaware of the trespass? I have no quarrel with your people, I do not wish to cause any trouble.”

Carnelia smiled. “You may explain, but our rulers are…” she picked up the bowl. “You should eat, you will need your strength.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Please, eat. You have been without sustenance for too long.”

He wasn’t sure he could eat, but he would try. She wasn’t wrong. He would need his strength. He would also need to begin working on a strategy for escape.

 

The sun was high in the sky. Jack’s patch of warm sunlight had migrated across the room and left him all but shivering in the dim light of the cell. His arms and shoulders were on fire, and he wanted nothing more than to lower his arms, even for just a moment. He’d begun giving the shackles a thorough examination. Carnelia had been right, the food did help him feel a bit more alert, and he was beginning to think more clearly. There was nothing special about the bonds, just metal bolted firmly into rock. They were thick, though, and his strength had not yet returned. He wasn’t even sure he could break these at his full and best self, much less exhausted and battered.

So he’d been trespassing. He didn’t remember seeing or passing anything that looked remotely like a border on his travels the day before. The landscape hadn’t changed for miles, and he didn’t see any signs of civilisation for further still. What kind of patrol had picked him up? Had he traveled for days, or had he been in the cell for most of the time he was unconscious? It hardly seemed right to punish someone for being in the wrong place. Perhaps he did have a quarrel with these people after all.

As Jack’s mind lighted with questions and doubts, Cornelia came back into sight from across the bars. She had more water, it looked like.

“Let’s get you in ship shape,” she said cheerily, as she approached him. She lifted the cup for him to drink and said “You will be seen shortly.”

Jack was able to drink the water much more quickly this time, and Cornelia offered to bring him more when he was finished. He thanked her and accepted.

“I’m going to give you a light sedative now,” she said, as he finished the second cup.

“What?”

She approached the bars and accepted a small box from the security guard. Jack felt his blood run cold. 

“It won’t knock you out completely, just make you a little more compliant for my ladies here.”

As she spoke, several more personnel entered the room. They were all tall and buff and female, just like the guard who had been watching over him.

Carnelia opened the box, and inside was a small needle filled with a light yellow substance.

“Wait, please do not,” Jack said, tensely. His heart accelerated as the other women entered the cell as well. Cornelia approached him, needle in hand, pulling the cap off as she walked.

“Don’t worry, Jack. You’ll hardly feel it.”

The thought of being rendered helpless by a drug yet again sent a chill through him, and his plan to kick the needle from her hand was foiled when two of the larger women approached in front of her. He made a valiant effort for certain, managing to knock one of them down with a well-placed kick to the knee and deter the other one slightly, but he was still weary and he missed the second, who caught his leg in a grip like a vice and pinned it swiftly to the floor, repeating the motion on his second. The other guard stood and lent him a glare, but nothing more. She faltered when she tried to stand; her knee was likely dislocated from the blow.

Cornelia crouched beside him and brushed his hair away from his neck. Jack craned to press his jaw into his shoulder, but another guard gripped his jaw, digging her fingers painfully into it, and moved his head away.

“ _ Please _ ,” Jack repeated, but even as the word left his lips he felt the slight prick of the needle on his skin. And it was...different than before. He felt warmth spread from the area, into his chest, his arms, his legs. The pains began to slowly ebb away and he fell limp. Even his racing heart slowed slightly. But this drug didn’t steal him from the world of the waking as the last had, instead just robbing him of autonomous movement and creating a slight fog around him, like he was watching his world through misty glass.

“I’m sorry, Samurai.” It was Carnelia’s voice, both distant and close. He felt the rough hands on him let up, and his arms were finally released from the shackles. His head lolled forward, his neck unable to support it. Hair fell over his vision like a dark curtain, and he felt himself being lifted from the floor on both sides. His hands were bound behind him, and he was carried by his arms out of the room and into a small, dark corridor. He could hardly see anything besides the floor as he was carried down hall after hall, up some stairs, and finally he saw beneath him dirt and small plants, pebbles, and general signs of  _ outdoors _ . 

The sun shone down on him, warm and sweet and vibrant. He felt its rays dance on his skin. He tried to look up, to see more light, but his body simply would not cooperate. He was dragged further along to what looked like a wooden pedestal and lifted atop it, then his hands were unbound and his arms wrapped around some sort of metal post. He felt ropes being secured around each of his wrists, which were then dragged up. A slight  _ clink _ sounded and he was released, limp body sagging against the post and held up securely only by his bound arms. The process was repeated at his ankles, but tighter so that his legs bent at the knee and nearly hugged the post.

“I’m going to be here the whole time, Jack.” Carnelia again, and she gently laid a hand upon his shoulder. She was warm too, like the sunshine, and although Jack felt uneasy and distrustful, the touch still felt nice.

It was only a few minutes until more voices started sounding softly around him. Jack wondered how large or open of a space he was in. It didn’t seem he was entirely outdoors, based on the shadows in his periphery. Maybe in a courtyard of sorts, and not a terribly large one either.

The voices hushed when a man called out the words “Judge Madrie.” There were a few moments of no speaking, and the only sound was footsteps crunching on the ground.

“Good afternoon, good people,” she began. Her voice was hard, and stern. Authoritative. “Today we shall determine the fate of the trespasser you see before you known as Samurai Jack.”

Some whispered. There were maybe 15-20 people gathered around somewhat closely. Jack was beginning to feel some mobile ability return as he tried to lift his head.

“We have found this man, an enemy of the otherworldly ruler Aku, guilty by our laws of trespassing on Vendetta land. He has been found by the Lord Aku to be guilty of numerous crimes, including conspiracy, slander and libel against Aku, and several counts of attempted and successful murder of members of the ruling party.”

Jack had seen the  _ Wanted _ posters across the land bearing his likeness, and they all contained a list of his alleged crimes. Actually hearing someone say them aloud, however, was peculiar. Most of the persons he had encountered in his travels seemed to know or understand that these were crimes against Aku, not the every day man, and that the two were very different.

He was finally able to fully lift his head and somewhat stand on wobbly legs. He was correct about the courtyard. It was small, and a group of people all huddled before him. The walls around them swooped forward into archways, casting shade on intermittent doors. There were no decorations, no color, no shrubbery or flowers. Just metal architecture ending at a dirt floor littered with stones and weeds. The woman speaking was not within his line of site.

“A Vendettan punishment for crimes such as these shall be fifteen lashes with a whip of leather,” she continued.

Jack closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, that feeling of panic settling within him again. There must be something that had been missed, be it a tear in the ropes or a tool within reach to cut himself free. This felt like such a senseless encounter. Why would such a strong and resourceful people blindly do Aku’s bidding?

“However, for the troubles caused by the Samurai, Aku has requested an increase in the severity of the punishment.”

Jack finally found his feet and was able to stand, though he was still basically flush with the post. He had enough slack to be able to grab the ropes with shaky hands, but not to reach all the way around the post to untie himself. They were anchored somewhere above his head, keeping him fairly close and giving little room for movement. He gave a tug; his fingers still felt weak and his arms wouldn’t pull hard enough to snap the rope. He couldn’t get any sort of leverage with the small range of movement.

“At Aku’s request, this number shall be increased by ten. The Samurai will receive twenty-five lashes with a whip of leather today, as recompense for his actions against the ruler Aku. Once he has served his time as a trespasser here, he shall be turned over to Aku.”

Jack’s heart dropped, and his skin prickled in upset. He was to be beaten and then handed over to his greatest enemy? Not if he had anything to say about it. He gripped the rope and gave it another tug, harder this time, and grunted with strain. 

“Samurai, do you have any words in defense of your actions that you would like to be considered today before your punishment proceeds?”

The woman finally came into view. She was tall, slender in build, and she had a very mean face, with gaunt cheeks and a sharp chin. Her hair was long and brown, pinned in a high ponytail. Like the other women, she was dressed in a crisp suit, hers blue with stripes of white.

Jack’s heart pounded fiercely as he spoke. “Yes, your honor. Please, I was unaware that I was trespassing when I crossed onto your land. I believe this to be a terrible misunderstanding.”

“Ignorance of the law is not a viable defense, Samurai.”

“It was not ignorance of the law, rather an unawareness that I was on your land at all. You have no visible border, and I am a stranger in this land. Please, forgive my crimes and allow me to go free. You have my humblest apologies, and a sincere promise never to repeat the mistake.”

She seemed to consider his words for a moment. She took a step closer to him, narrow eyes peering down with piercing intensity. In a softer voice that seemed to be meant more for him than the crowd, she said, “As I am certain Carnelia made you aware, my people do not answer to Aku’s authority.”

“Yes,” Jack felt hot and small under her stare. He fought to keep the fear from his voice. He’d faced much greater monsters, there was no reason to cower before this woman now. “She told me of your great empire, and how your arrangement with Aku is designed to be mutually beneficial.”

“Correct, Samurai. Now, do understand that I am the keeper of the law, and you are a highly-regarded, well-known public figure. I seek only to protect my people. Nothing more, nothing less. Your presence in my land has drawn attention, great attention from Aku. I could not risk incurring his wrath by setting you free. However, if you endure your punishment from us, something could be arranged so that you did not end up a prisoner of Aku.”

Mixed emotions welled up inside Jack. He bit them back as best he could. “I do not see the point in such a public ceremony and a practice that seems so hateful and cruel.” Yes, he was scared. It was nothing compared to the inner, deep fear that he may never complete his quest, leaving Aku to rule unopposed forever and reign terror down on humanity until the Earth inevitably burned away in his grasp. It was however a fear, a more baser fear stemming from a generally human dislike of pain and discomfort. He had never been struck with a whip before, but he had seen it happen, seen the welts and the bruises and blod and the pain they could create with just a few licks. And he’d just been assigned a grotesque number. 

“Aku will surely kill me,” he finally said. His voice felt weak.

“Well, I do not believe in the death penalty, Samurai, and to be quite honest we have not upheld this...practice...for nearly two decades. However, this practice is familiar to Aku, who has made a request of us, and I must protect my people. That being said, your punishment shall commence.”

Before Jack could say another word, the woman called “Bring him out now!” and moved away from Jack. He swallowed and tried to steady his breathing, bracing for what was coming. He tried the ropes again, holding them as tightly as he could and giving short, sharp yanks. They simply would not break! He looked around desperately, and caught sight of Carnelia a few yards away. She looked tense, fingers laced together and tucked under her chin. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked...like she was second guessing the spectacle before her. Other onlookers watched in contemplative silence, occasionally whispering to each other.

Jack heard the  _ creak _ of opening doors, and heavy footsteps sounded from somewhere in the courtyard that he could not see.

His palms felt sweaty and he continued his fervent search of the area. There was nothing around him, nothing in reach, just the ropes and the pole and his bare feet on warm wood.

The footsteps stopped, and the doors closed with a  _ slam _ . All fell quiet for a moment, so much that Jack hardly dared to breath. His pulse thundered in his ears, trembling beginning to set into his knees. He was thankful he had the post to press them against, quelling at least the appearance of terror. He tried to keep a stern face as his eyes searched.

There was a sudden, thundering  _ crack! _ so loud and so close that Jack nearly jumped from his skin, flinching in shaky anticipation.

Jack closed his eyes and gripped the ropes, hugging the post in front of him and focusing on his breathing.  _ In...one...two...three...out...one...two...three… _

_ Crack! _

With a startled cry, Jack tightened his grip on the post, lurching a little. Pain seared across his flesh; the strike had landed neatly from his right shoulder to the left side of his hips. He exhaled sharply and tried to catch his breath again, controlling his breathing, counting the seconds between each inhale and exhale.

_ Crack! _

He was more prepared this time, but the pain from the new strike mingled viciously with the pain from the first and he felt his knees threaten to give. He couldn’t quite discern where that one had struck, other than that part of it had tagged his right tricep and that stung more than it did on his back. So far as he could feel, there was no blood, which was a good--

_ Crack! _

Jack bit his tongue, refusing to let any more sounds escape him, holding only to the ropes tightly.

_ Crack! _

This strike hit the other side of his back, refreshing the pain and it felt like it was searing down into his insides.

_ Crack! _

Hot tears pricked at the corners of Jack’s eyes. He made a soft sound and looked up, searching the crowd again for Carnelia. 

_ Crack! _

When his eyes found her, she looked frozen, fingers covering her lips. Was she surprised by what she was seeing? She had seemed so nonchalant and casual about this  _ recompense _ earlier.

_ Crack! _

He clenched his eyes shut, squeezing out a tear, and rested his face against the cool metal.

_ Crack! _

_ Crack! _

_ Crack! _

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, a sob of pain ripping from his throat. His hands scrabbled against the metal, looking for some kind of grounding.

_ Crack! _

_ Crack! _

_ Crack! _

_ Crack! _

There was silence in the courtyard, save for the terrible thunder of the whip and Jack’s practical screaming. It felt like his skin was on fire, searing from everywhere. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he struggled to keep his breath in dreadful anticipation of the next strike.

_ Crack! _

Jack sunk down with a soft cry, unable to stay on his feet, hanging just by his arms and letting the post support him. His face burned, humiliated by his paltry composure and undignified cries. He waited with bated breath for the next strike, but there was a murmuring chatter and no terrible strike against his skin. He had not been counting, doubted he even would have been able to keep count, but he was certain he had not reached the peak of his ‘punishment’. A warm breeze rustled his sweat-damp hair, stinging what were sure to be angry red marks on his back, creeping along his flanks and shoulders. He forced himself back to his feet and peered up at the whispering onlookers. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, watching him from the corners of their eyes as they gossipped. All except for Carnelia, who was still standing in the same fashion as before, mouth covered, eyes wide and glazed. And she saw him looking, his eyes pleading as he held desperately to the post, trembling.  _ Please. Help me escape this place _ . 

She must have read something in his expression, or maybe she heard his thoughts, he was unsure at this point, these people could be capable of truly anything. Whatever she saw or felt or heard in that moment, she stepped forward, hand raised. She, too, was trembling. 

“Y-your honor, may I speak on behalf of the Samurai?”

The murmur ceased and all eyes turned to Carnelia, who Jack was only now realizing was significantly, by at least 15 years, younger than surrounding participants. Or whatever they might be called.

The hush dragged out, and Jack felt every muscle in his body tense and alight, a stark contrast to the way his body had sagged and submitted when he’d been dragged onto this  _ stage _ to be tortured and humiliated by strangers.

“You may, my child. Say your peace.”

Carnelia took several more steps forward, until she was close enough that she could have reached out and touched him if she chose.

“Your honor, I believe that the punishment doled thus far should suffice, if not entirely then at least for this day.”

More silence. Carnelia glanced at Jack, caught his gaze for a moment, before looking back up at the person she was addressing behind him. Jack didn’t dare turn to see the face of the harsher captor. She had seemed cold and distant, as though Jack were simply a  _ thing _ and he was worth nothing more than an example to a crowd, a cautionary tale of what kind of human not to be. Jack thought of himself as many things, but a cautionary tale was not one of them. The thought sent a shudder down his spine, disgust welling up and piling atop the faint terror he tried to quell.

“Please explain your reasoning,” the Judge finally said, and there was a rustle of fabric as she approached.

Carnelia straightened a little, and there was uncertainty on her features, but her voice was strong and sure. “I believe he understands the weight of the crimes he has committed against both our empire and Aku’s. I believe that he has served an appropriate recompense for these crimes. After all, fifteen  _ is _ the traditional number, is it not? And it is not as though the Samurai is unrepentant, your honor.”

More silence. Soft voices from behind him, the woman and another, a whisper he couldn’t identify.

He felt pathetic, standing there, waiting on someone to decide his fate with only a young girl to plead his case. A young girl who, only that morning, had seemed confident in the ability of her government to issue accurate and adequate sentencing. This place was unjust, cruel, and rash. He moved to try the ropes again, but the searing burn on his skin delved deep into his joints when he tried to lift his arms. He flinched and clenched his teeth, determined not to show any further signs of weakness.

Carnelia looked at him while the strangers deliberated, her eyes glassy and red. She had a determined expression that was softened by what looked like tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t just looking at his face; her eyes swept over his profile, no doubt catching glimpses of red marks where they wrapped from his back onto his sides. She stepped closer still, hands clenching and unclenching in nervous fists at her sides.

Jack wondered if this young girl was potentially facing consequences for speaking out on his behalf. Was she protected from such an ill fate, or could she find herself in his position for defending him? If he was barely equipped to take this sort of beating, what would it do to her? She was smaller than him, softer, not of a warrior’s build but of someone who did delicate work indoors. Jack felt dizzy, watching her face bravely her elders and no doubt superiors.

Finally, the woman behind him spoke. “Young Carnelia, it seems you carry valid concerns for the fairness of this sentence. Since what is done can not be undone, we shall recess to further discuss the fate of the Samurai before proceeding. Thank you for voicing your thoughts this afternoon.”

The tension visibly ebbed from Carnelia’s posture, and she nodded. “Thank you, your honor.”

“Put him back under, and take him back to his cell,” the woman said, and he heard her rustle to move away.

There was a rough hand in his hair, huge, that suddenly yanked his head to the side. He shouted in surprised pain and screwed his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable sting of a needle. His heart thudded in his chest, when Carnelia shouted,

“Wait!”

The person manhandling him paused, as did the rustling from the judge leaving.

Carnelia swallowed, and she turned her gaze to Jack, looking him in the eye. “Please, don’t sedate him again. I feel he has endured enough today.”

“It is simply a precautionary measure, Carnelia.” The woman said.

“I know, your honor. But I believe this man to be of a noble and true heart.”

A sniff. “And if he escapes because we were lax and dumb in our measures of security?”

Carnelia stared at him still, intensely. “Then I shall take his place.”

“Hmm...very well, then.”

Jack felt a pang inside of him, and his heart sank low. He could not allow her to endure what he had, not for a moment. She should not have said that, he could find another way out, whether from the cell or from the post or during transport. He was sure of it. And now...now, if he managed to escape, he was leaving an innocent to  be beaten and battered...or worse. Carnelia stared at him with intensity as two guards approached to release him from his bonds. There was unveiled fear in her eyes, a dark realization of what she had just said in defense of a stranger. She did not know him, had no reason to believe he  _ wouldn’t _ escape and leave her hanging to a bitter fate.

He would never do such a thing, of course. Never betray the faith of a stranger who had just stood up for him in front of her own people.

When his arms fell to his sides, pain ripped through him, starting at his shoulders and moving in a tsunami down his body, ending in a flare at the flesh of his back that didn’t dwindle or wane. He hissed through tightly-clenched teeth, baring down on his tongue and scrunching his eyes closed even as tears threatened again to spill. He all but collapsed, and he would have fallen if not for the metal post keeping him in place. He waited for the rough grab of hands again as his ankles were unbound, unable to focus much on anything besides  _ breathe evenly, the pain is only in your mind. _ It was a chant that an old tutor used to say to him when he was young, when he felt he could no longer move for burning muscles and aching feet. He’d pushed through worse, certainly, and he could do it now.

Instead of the hard touches, however, he felt a small, delicate hand on one arm, then the other. He looked up in confusion; Carnelia was at his side, gently pulling his arms away from the post and toward his back. Two guards stood over, looming and looking ready to jump on him, but they didn’t touch him. Instead, one handed a length of rope to Carnelia, who made quick work of tying a firm but loose knot at his wrists behind his back. Every  movement, every twist, pull, turn, set a fresh flame across his skin where the whip had bitten in. Jack swallowed back a whimpering whine when Carnelia pulled him away from the support of the post, working his jaw and pressing his lips into a tight line. Walking was a chore. Difficult, though not impossible, as every step felt like a jolt through his body, like he was still somehow being struck again and again with every small stride. Carnelia walked close to him, one hand on the front of his left shoulder to help keep him steady. The guards stayed close.

Despite the pain, the stiffness, and the exhaustion, Jack was overwhelmed with a fresh urge to  _ get out _ . He was barely bound and could easily fight with just his hands tied. He had done it before, through much larger crowds. They likely wouldn’t be able to stop him. If only that naive girl had not promised to take his place. He looked over at her, patiently walking next to him, grounding him.  _ Keeping him _ . What if this was some sort of trick? Perhaps these people were aware of his gentility toward the innocent. Could they know that this was how he would react to being put in such a position? If it was a deception, if Carnelia was no more than some fiendish, beautiful young maiden, whose sole effort was to trick him into not struggling...well, it was working. He couldn’t risk being wrong, could not suffer a stranger to take on his burden, unjust as it may be. He had made himself an enemy of Aku, and these people were just doing what all the people of this time did: bend to Aku’s will. They denied it with great intensity, living under some delusional idea that they were allies of the demon. They were not. Nobody was an ally of Aku, he had only slaves, and if one was not his slave, they were his enemy.

These were a proud people, and their practices may be barbaric, but they were simply acting out of fear of a tyrant. Just like so many others Jack had encountered on his travels. And it was appearing more and more like his situation would require diplomacy to humanely remedy, but he needed to find a way to make them actually listen to him. Complying when they showed him leniency, he hoped, would be a good first step.

They approached the cell and Jack balked at first, lending a glance to Carnelia. This room was greatly fortified. If he allowed himself to be locked back inside, and they decided not to let him out, his chances of escape would dwindle to nearly nothing. She looked up at him, feeling his hesitation in his movements, and gave him a soft smile.

“It’ll be alright,” she said, quietly, like the words were meant only for him to hear.

He still felt uncertain, but despite the general distrust he felt for this entire people, the gentle words did give him some comfort. He allowed her to lead him into the cell. She stayed in there with him even when the guards closed the doors, much to his surprise, and she directed him to turn around. She promptly untied him, and Jack slowly brought his arms around to his front, wincing as the burn on his skin lit anew once more.

It was the first opportunity he’d had to realize how chafed and raw his wrists were. He touched the marks with his fingertips; not too sensitive, just a little irritated from being locked into some sort of bondage for however long he had been here. Definitely nothing compared to the pain on his back, which had dulled somewhat to a hard burning sting. If he didn’t move at all, it was bearable. 

Carnelia came back into his line of vision, and Jack looked at her, now standing face to face. She wasn’t as small as he’d thought, nearly matching him in height but dainty, thin.

“You have a little bleeding,” she said. “I will care for you so that you are able to heal.”

“Why did you speak up for me?” Jack asked. The question sounded more accusing than he’d meant, though not as accusing as he would really have liked it to.

She gave a small sigh and her gaze faltered, looking away for only a moment. Her cheeks tinged pink, but she held her head high. “I had not before witnessed...such an old practice in person.”

“An old practice?”

“Yes. The lashings...Vendetta has long forgone these ways. The laws are still in place, but they are there more as a formality and a means of frightening any would-be criminals. Since my time working in this tower, I have never actually seen Judge Madrie follow through on her threats to perform the ceremony. It’s always been a public reprimand, with the promise of what  _ could _ be, and then some time spent here in the tower to strike fear into prisoners. I didn’t know...didn’t realize, I suppose, how…” she just looked at him, pleading, into his eyes. She looks sad. Repentant. “I’m so sorry, Jack.”

_ Didn’t realize how brutal this act is, _ Jack guessed. He bowed his head. “I can not find you at fault for the ways of your people.” He offered. It’s generous, at best. He wanted to be cross with her, to lay the blame on someone, but he knew that was unreasonable. He was just angry and exhausted and hurting. 

Carnelia moved toward a small opening in the cell, a groove where someone was standing with a small bowl and a wet towel. She took the items through the opening and turned back toward Jack.

“If you will rest, I will tend to your wounds.” 

He nodded, shortly, and looked around the cell. The only place to sit was the bench, so he approached it and sat slowly. Even just sitting down was enough to cause pain, and Jack winced with the motion.

The expression on Carnelia’s face indicated that she noticed.

She draped the towel over one arm and leaned forward to tap his leg lightly with her fingertips. Her hand was warm, in contrast to Jack’s cool (almost clammy) skin. She seemed to be indicating that he turn to sit sideways on the bench, so he did so. She straddled the bench behind him and he heard the soft  _ clink _ of the bowl on the metal. He felt her hand go into his hair and brush it forward, over his right shoulder. The light touch gave him a small shiver.

“This is going to sting,” she warned, and Jack startled when he felt warm towel being placed across the flesh of his back. It didn’t sting. It burned. It  _ seared _ . He was unable to hold back a soft cry, and he clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. She began applying pressure, and that was when it really started to hurt. He sucked in a sharp breath. Leaned forward a little. Carnelia placed a hand on his shoulder left shoulder, carefully avoiding the welt there, and pulled him back toward her, and she kept the hand there, steadying.

“Please, stop,” Jack said, fighting to keep his voice even. “It hurts too much.”

“You must let the antiseptic enter the broken skin, Jack,” Carnelia said. “You risk infection if we don’t clean this properly.”

He knew that. He understood. That was the only reason he didn’t rip out of her grasp and tear across the room. This disinfecting hurt almost as much as the actual whipping had. He gripped the edges of the bench, shaky, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Carnelia lifted the towel and began dabbing carefully at his shoulder, his sides, everywhere that the whip had struck. The cool air stung the exposed, wet skin, but the actual feel of the towel was almost too much to bear. The pain amplified, echoed through him like a building scream, threatening to burst through at any moment, making him sweat and shake and gave him a dizzy buzz in his head.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m going to take care of you.” Carnelia’s comforting words must have been in response to the whimper that slipped past Jack’s lips, and even as she spoke his tears began to spill. He choked back a sob, closing his eyes.

“Come now, I promise you are going to be alright.”

It must have been exhaustion mixed with the extreme and extended period of pain infliction. He felt Carnelia’s words, felt them in his heart, ripping more pathetic sounds from him. He covered his face. He couldn’t stop his shoulders shaking as he cried, quietly.

“I know you, Samurai,” she continued, laying the towel across him once more. “I know what trials you have faced. I know the people you have helped. I’ve heard legends of your strength and of your good heart. We all have.”

_ Please stop talking about me, _ was all Jack could think. Everything else was drowned out by sorrow, by the overwhelming feeling of how unfair it was for him to fight so hard for the world and have it crash down on him, throw him around and beat him up until he was left weeping like a child - over what? Some wound care? The embarrassment only stabbed deeper and a fresh wave of tears struck.

“I know you don’t deserve this,” she whispered. “Believe me, Jack. I know. And...I want you to understand…” her voice wavered before she paused. Her hand was still on him, simply holding the towel in place.

_ Understand what? You are practically a child to this community? You are naive and stupid for thinking your peers would never go back to their old ways. No. That is not fair either. _

“I meant it. What I told the Judge. I know what you mean, to us, to the world. You fight a noble battle. I would gladly take your place, here, so that your journey may continue.” Her voice was low, quiet. Somber.

For a moment, Jack couldn’t respond. He couldn’t process what she said.

“I can leave the cell unlocked,” she continued, voice still barely above a whisper. “When I leave, I will offer to lock up myself. I will distract Jolene.”

Jolene, the guard. She wasn’t just using herself as collateral for his treatment, she was volunteering to let him escape, knowing the cost. She was offering an exchange.

“I would  _ never _ ask you to do that. I could not!” He indignantly sat up straighter, wiping tears from his face. It did little good as more insisted on taking their place.

“You don’t have to ask,” she said. “I’m telling you what will happen.”

“Please, Carnelia, I do not wish to--”

“Now hold still, I’m going to apply the ointment. This will soothe.”

The cold touch that followed made Jack jump, but she was right about the soothing part. She started at the angry mark on his shoulder, smoothing a dollop of something muddy looking across the welt. The relief was almost instant. He exhaled, the breath shaky. Slowly, she covered every inch of pain, every sting and burn becoming cool and numb. The all encompassing torment faded until it was dull, background. The muscles in his shoulders started to relax, and, as they did, the tears stopped flowing. He was left feeling weak, trembly. Carnelia instructed him to remain where he was, and she stood and returned a few moments later with a cup, much like the one she had him drink from earlier that day.

Had this all been over the course of one day?

She handed him the cup and he drank, grateful. With all of the other physical stimulation, he didn’t realize how dry and hoarse he was. Carnelia left and returned again, this time with a blue pair of bundled up blankets and a small pillow.

“I know it isn’t much, but you need to rest now,” she said. “Your body will heal best if you sleep.”

Jack grimaced at the bedding as Carnelia laid it out on the floor. “I do not feel ready to sleep,” he countered. “I would rather just...have some time. To meditate. I feel I have been asleep enough.”

Carnelia nodded at him. “I understand.” She approached him and knelt before him, resting on her knees. She looked up at him, hands in her lap. “I can’t say it enough, Jack. I am sorry.”

He closed his eyes in a slow nod. He did feel weary, but he wished for some time to process where he was and what was happening. It had been fast and so intense. It felt like only hours ago he was relaxing in the free fresh air, falling asleep to the song of crickets. Additionally, with the bulk of the pain hushed by the serum Carnelia had applied to his skin, he felt like he would be able to focus and strategize with more clarity.

“May I stay here with you?” Carnelia requested.

It was interesting that she phrased it as a question. He wondered if she meant it that way. Of course, she could choose to do as she pleased. She was the captor, him the captive. But it was sweet in a way, like an invitation for company rather than a threat of observation.

“I would like that,” Jack finally replied.

Carnelia offered a small smile, and she leaned back and crossed her legs. “I will be quiet, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW. Okay. So this sucker...was longer and turned way more plotty than I had planned. I didn't *mean* to develop Carnelia into a fully fleshed character, it just sort of happened. And now I have to write a second chapter because of course there is going to be some sexy times but I don't think that sex immediately following a flogging is really Jack's style (though it could be in some kinky au...huehuehue)  
> So yeah. I don't have an explanation for the beginning, just really feeling around the world and finding a flow. The Vendettans could have a patrol buggy that just sweeps the area at night to find trespassers, though if they are kind of grown out of those ways I guess that doesn't make much sense. Maybe they are mercenaries that capture known criminals and sell them to the Vendettan justice system? Maybe some day I will flesh this out better, but for now just take it at face value and roll with it. Jack doesn't know what's going on, so you don't need to either.  
> Stick around for some smut, and in the mean time enjoy this massively self-indulgent erotic-undertone hurt/comfort swill :)


End file.
